“Why?”
“You are a dauchen street child,” Jalek said. “I doubt you would understand matters of worship.”
“I’as jes at church,” Yuiv said. “I’as even knowed bout the three keys of discipleships.”
“Istran dogma,” Jalek scoffed.
“But yer Aelis, huh?”
Yuiv’s question was met with silence. Maybe that had surprised him.
“Why are you here?” Jalek asked after a pause.
“I’as toldya. I’as needs to talk to you bout,” Yuiv hesitated, “bout what hapind back by Hirath.”
“I am sorry, boy,” even with his exotic accent, Jalek’s tone told Yuiv that the man was depressed. “I do not have any answers for you. I don’t even have any for myself.”
“I’as need to know’d what Jia is.”
“Leave me be.”
“But…”
“Begone!” Jalek bellowed.
Anger bubbled up inside Yuiv. After everything he had gone through to sneak down to see Jalek: humiliating himself in front of his peers, risking losing his new home, sneaking into the dungeon, he was not going to leave without some answers. As if his anger had been the incendiary spark, his inner fire sprang to life inside him, and before Yuiv knew what was happening, he was speaking in a commanding tone that sounded alien to his own ears.
“You will answer me, and tell me all else that I wish to know!” The words left him in a wave of invisible force, that projected outward and slammed into Jalek.
The bald, dark-skinned man started as though Yuiv had struck him across his back with a rod. He turned toward Yuiv, his eyes wide and face pale. He made a quick gesture of touching his head, then lips, followed by his heart. What did that mean?
As Yuiv registered Jalek’s stunned expression, his inner fire extinguished and he felt foolish. His voice came as a weak whisper. “Please…”
Jalek wordlessly nodded and turned so as to face Yuiv, his expression reminiscent of one having a knife held to his throat.
“What’as Jia?” Yuiv repeated.
“Jia is energy. It is life, it is spirit, it is indestructible. Jia is that which is permanent.”
Yuiv shook his head. “I’as don’t get it.”
Seeming to lose some of his fear, Jalek scooted closer to the bars, threading his hands through and letting his arms hang on a metal crossbeam. “This,” he said as he reached out and tapped the back of Yuiv’s wrist, “this is Dyn. Dyn is fragile, corruptible, and temporary.”
Yuiv furrowed his brow. “But Jia’as not?”.
Jalek shook his head, “No. Jia is permanent. Our souls are composed of Jia, but our bodies are made of Dyn. Jia is like fire burning inside of us. This is why we age and eventually die, our Jia slowly burns away the Dyn and in the end our souls are freed.”
“So the fire’as inside me”―Yuiv tapped his chest―“is Jia?”
Jalek paused, looking as though he too had just made the connection. “I think.” Jalek stared intently at Yuiv’s eyes. “You might be of the Kalyra.”
Yuiv shook his head. “What’as that?”
Intrigue replaced Jalek’s surliness and fear. “Your eyes glow, yes?”
Suddenly feeling self conscious, Yuiv looked down to avert Jalek’s gaze. “Yeah.”
“Does this happen when you feel your Jia burn inside you?”
Yuiv thought for a moment, “I’as think so.”
“And have you ever accomplished anything unusual, something that should not normally be possible?” Jalek’s voice started to sound excited.
“I’as healed you,” Yuiv said, “an Sitrell too.”
Jalek sat back, studying him for a very long, uncomfortable moment.
“What’as Kalyra?” Yuiv repeated his question with a measure of impatience, the far away sound of an unlocking door reminding him that he had little time.
“Jia has the power to animate Dyn, to shape and control it. All living things have Jia inside them,” Jalek tapped the center of his chest. “It’s what makes life.”
Yuiv unconsciously raised a hand to touch his chest.
“The Kalyra were tribes of men chosen by YaJiann to defend our world from Aedar.”
Yuiv shook his head. “Aedar?”
Jalek hesitated, “You call him the Vaekra.”
“Oh, the’s destroyer.”
Jalek nodded. “Yes. The destroyer, the corrupter, the deceiver; he has many names. YaJiann, or the Creator as you would call Him, chose seven of His noblest children and gave them the power to tap their Jia and use it to control themselves and the world around them in a way other creatures of Dyn couldn’t.”
“Like healin?”
“That was the gift given to Estad the Merciful, your ancestor I believe.” Jalek gave Yuiv another analytical stare. “She was a woman of great compassion and so YaJiann granted her the power to heal the sick of any malady, save death. That YaJiann kept for himself, for he knew mankind would abuse it.”
“Can’t fix the dead?” Yuiv’s heart sank. A small part of him had hoped that his power to heal might have allowed him to return the dead orphan boy, Olan, to life.
Jalek shook his head. “Healing was the most common talent of the Kalyra and those who possessed it were called Estadi, named after their progenitor.”
“What were’d the other powers?”
“To Estad’s twin brother, Astad the Mighty, YaJiann granted great strength and speed, for he was a warrior of unmatched skill.” Jalek lowered his eyes, his mouth turning down in a frown. But before Yuiv could ask him what was wrong, Jalek looked up at him and resumed speaking.
“To Jasatar the Courageous, he gave the power to command the elements. To Saedan the Cunning, the power over space, to Isatel the Swift, the power to soar through the heavens like a bird. To Soatel the just, he gave the power to read men’s hearts and speak to their souls, and to Kalden the Wise, YaJiann gave a double portion. First he gave him the power to move things with his thoughts and then YaJiann made him leader of the tribes of Kalyra―the Al’Kalyra, or as men name it, the Arch Sage.”
“Could he’d use all the powers?”
“No,” Jalek answered quickly, “But he could use more than one, some legends say as many as three. Aside from that, he had the unique gift of Far Sight.”
“Likea lookin-glass?”
“Something like that, but the Al’Kalyra’s sight was not limited to space.” Jalek glanced at a small barred window set near the ceiling of his cell. “They had the power to glimpse time itself, to behold things past, present, and future.”
Yuiv glanced down at the half empty basket of bread. “So, alla the Sages were’d really Kalyra?”
“And the Arch Sages Al’Kalyra. Men named them Sages because the Kalyra were wise to the things of the unseen world. Being able to access their Jia, they could perceive things of Jia, things that were not visible to the Dyn-Bound.”
“What kinda things?” Yuiv asked, not entirely sure he wanted an answer as he remembered the specters of the dead that had haunted him in Hirath.
“Well, they could perceive things on the Jiadic plane like auras, or the spirits of the dead. They could also sense danger or evil, and they could detect the presence of Aedar.”
Yuiv shook his head. “I’as never heard’d this stuff before.”
“You wouldn’t have, not from the Istran priests anyway.” Jalek sighed. “Many of the records containing this information were lost in the Great Destruction.”
“What bout Salia Kitha? Don’t it talk bout this stuff?”
“The Salia Kitha has some of it, but it was put together from fragmented records and contains but a sliver of the world’s true history.”
“Then’as howd’d the Aelis know’d it?”
Jalek looked uncomfortable again. “This is not something we are supposed to share with the uninitiated.” He made another odd gesture with his hand and muttered something under his breath before continuing. “Aelis means Oath Bound. You see, long ago a group o
f devoted believers among the clan of Aukae swore an oath to the last Arch Sage, Alnostra Kyrell, before he died. In this oath, they pledged that they would keep and protect the only true record of history to survive the Great Destruction, a record called the Song of the Sages. Kyrell entrusted it to our keeping with the promise that if we fulfilled our oath, YaJiann would reward our people by raising up the next Arch Sage from among us.”
“It’as a song?” Yuiv asked.
Jalek shook his head, “not like you are thinking, not a set of lyrics set to music. It is more of a long poem.”
“What’as in it?”
“I don’t know. I have not read it. Only Aelic clerics have that privilege. Still, even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you. It was part of the oath we took to protect the record from corruption.”
“So you don’t know’d anything bout what’as in the Song of the Sages?”
Again Jalek hesitated, looking as though Yuiv were wrenching every last secret from him. “All I know is that it contains the writings of all the Arch Sages, an account of the world’s creation and prophecies of the future.”
Yuiv shook his head. “What’as pra-fa―”
“Prophecies?” Jalek finished. “Words of the Al’Kalyra who glimpsed the future. Kyrell was said to be one of the most powerful of all the Arch Sages in this, he having had a vision of the world’s ending.”
“You done in there, boy?” the impatient voice of the dungeon guard echoed down the cellblock corridor. Yuiv started, drew his pocket watch, and panicked as he saw the time.
“I’as gotsa go.” Yuiv stood.
Jalek looked relieved.
“How does I know’d more bout Kalyra?” Yuiv scooped up his breadbasket.
Jalek shook his head. “I have told you most of what I know, but I am not a cleric. Only they could tell you everything, if they didn’t kill you for asking. These things are sacred to the Aelis. I myself could face punishment for sharing them with you.”
“So I’as a Estadi?” Yuiv asked.
“I believe so.”
“Then you’as Astadi?”
Jalek’s face clouded and he scowled. “The only thing that I am is a traitor to my country and a shame to my family.”
“Boy!” the guard shouted again, this time louder and more agitated.
Yuiv anxiously glanced in the direction of the sound before looking back at Jalek. “Thanks fer savin me,” he said and then turned and jogged back the way he came.
Jalek watched Yuiv disappear into the dark of the narrow aisle running between rows of cells. Does my perfidy know no end? I betrayed my country and now my sacred oaths. Why had he done it? Why had he turned on his own men to save Yuiv? Why had he just revealed information that would brand him an oath-breaker and expel him forever from the order of the Aelis? He had never so much as told his wife, a non-believer, the things that he had just shared with Yuiv.
Jalek was starting to think that every encounter he had with Yuiv was destined to be a strange one. The boy was definitely of the Kalyra, an Estadi as he could heal. But Jalek had never read of any Kalyra, not even the Arch Sage, who could seize control of the minds of men as Yuiv had his. Not even in the legends could the Soatel, with their powers of influence and mind talk, overpower a man’s free will unless it was surrendered.
Nothing makes sense.
He had lived his entire life believing that he understood the world, that he knew what was true. Now Jalek didn’t even know who he was.
Soon Yaokken began to take pleasure in causing suffering and pain, a thing that frightened his beloved Adariel.
Interlude II
Leap of Faith
Sydias Dyon was going to hell. At least that’s what the Istran priests had told him time and time again. Of course, he could avoid eternal damnation if he would only give up his drinking, smoking, and gambling, and reconcile with his ex-wife. But which one? He chuckled to himself. I have three. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in Trysta Jiann or the Creator, he did. He just wasn’t very good at adhering to the moral code of the Istra. Oh, he had tried to give up his vices, tried more times than he could count, but always he ended up right back where he shouldn’t be, which was usually in a saloon. It was true, Dyon was not a saint by any stretch of the imagination.
The grizzled general, with the unruly graying, hair stared thoughtfully at his pipe filled with fresh Lettle Leaf, hesitating as he considered another attempt at reform. He would try giving up smoking again, he decided as he lit the pipe. Just not today. He had been told that surrendering his bad habits was metaphorically akin to taking a leap of faith. He had taken that leap before, leapt and fallen straight down into a spiral of frustrated binging.
Dyon stood from his chair and walked to a window facing south, a window through which he could overlook the city. Sayel Nen was a large city, said to be second in size only to Salatia Taeo itself. That was an unfair comparison. No city even came close to matching the size and grandeur of the Amigus capital, but Sayel Nen was large with its population of just over one-hundred thousand. A hundred thousand lives that I have to protect.
If the enemy could take Sayel Nen, they would have a foothold in the kingdom and a base from which to stage their attacks. Right now the Aukasian forces had to travel around the southern tip of the mountains and across the Nenasette River to attack. The only reason Sayel Nen had not fallen already was because General Enot Trauel sacrificed himself to destroy the stone causeway that bridged that river.
That made it necessary for the enemy to construct a replacement bridge, one far less wide and sturdy as it was it would be made of wood. The Aukasian army had been forced to travel south over a hundred miles to the nearest forest to fell enough trees for them to make the bridge. It’d delayed them for over two months. Scouts reported the bridge was finished now and that the enemy had crossed the Nenasette and was marching to descend on Sayel Nen en masse. Dyon, of course, would send a cavalry to lay traps for the enemy and harry them with night raids, but that would only delay them another week or two at best. Sooner or later it would come to a siege.
The city’s high walls and cannon towers meant that they could easily defend themselves from a superior foe, and the new rail line from the north made resupply less of an issue. But no fortress, no matter how sturdily built or well-supplied could outlast an indefinite siege.
To make matters worse, Dyon’s scouts reported that the enemy army was steadily receiving reinforcements and had double in size since their initial attempt to cross the river. Over one-hundred and fifty-thousand strong, his scouts had almost unanimously agreed, more than three times the number of his army. He knew what the enemy was trying to make him do, intimidate him into retreat and if that didn’t work, then they would simply take the city no matter how long it took. The losses to their side would surely be great, but Aukasian commanders didn’t flinch at sending their soldiers to their deaths as long as it was for the glory of the empire and the honor of their emperor.
“Vaekra take me!” Dyon swore aloud.
It seemed that their only options were to fall now or to fall later. Well, given the choice, Dyon was going to see that no Aukasian flag flew over Sayel Nen until every last drop of Amigus blood was spilt, hopefully to mix with the blood of their enemies. They may ultimately take Sayel Nen, but he would make certain that their victory tasted as bitter as any defeat.
A knock at the door turned Dyon from the window. He quickly extinguished his pipe―if it was Lt. General Aun, he didn’t want to see the Istran disapproval in the man’s eyes. Friends though they were, Aun’s tendency to lecture from his soapbox of moral superiority could be incredibly aggravating at times.
“Come!” Dyon barked.
It was not Aun but a middle-aged Commander named Talora. He rigidly saluted. “General Dyon, sir. Something is happening downstairs. Lt. General Aun bade me fetch you immediately.”
“What is it, Commander?”
“I don’t know, sir,” the man’s professional tone faltered a bit
, “But he said it was urgent.”
“Very well. Lead the way, Commander Talora.”
The two broke into a jog down the red stone corridor. Although in his late fifties, Dyon was in good shape―in spite of his vices―and kept pace with the Commander who was at least twenty years his junior. After flying down three flights of stairs, they reached the ground level and came upon a group of soldiers clustered in a circle.
“Make way for the General!” Talora shouted.
The soldiers parted to reveal Aun kneeling on the ground over an unconscious man dressed in a white uniform, or one that used to be white, stained by sweat and dirt.
“General Aun, by the cold, dark Void what is going on here?” Dyon demanded as he strode over to the man lying on the ground. He was a member of the Royal Guard, and from the looks of his pale face and the sounds of his shallow breathing, suffering from severe exhaustion.
“He charged in here demanding to see you and then just collapsed,” Aun said as he held a wet rag to the man’s forehead. “He was clutching this.” Aun held up a wrinkled envelope sealed with blue wax.
Dyon snatched the letter which had his name scrawled on the face. “Where is Doctor Laren?”
“I sent a runner; he should be here soon,” Aun replied as he continued to minister to the unconscious man.
Dyon tore the envelope, dropping it as he removed and unfolded the letter. As his eyes flew over the flowing script, his heart dropped.
“What is it?” Aun asked.
It took Dyon a moment to regain the power of speech. “Read it.”
Aun took the letter, turning pale as he read it. “Could this be a forgery, part of a ploy to lure us away?”
Dyon shook his head. “The seal is that of Cylan Tarell, Governor of Hirath. This message is authentic.” Dyon took the letter back, reading it again, this time more carefully.
General Sydias Dyon,
Commander of the eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth brigades,
Be advised that an enemy force of fifty thousand, led by Emperor Lorta himself, has breached the Sentinel Gate and taken Lisidra. They march on Hirath in six weeks’ time and from there to the capital. They have developed a weapon technology against which we have no defense. As there are no Amigus divisions between Lisidra and Hirath, I have exercised my right to take command of the city as stated in Article three of the Jyla Directive for the mandatory obedience of local authorities to a military commander in times of attack. Consequently, I have ordered Governor Tarell to evacuate Hirath and send its people north to Micidian. I will try to get this information, as well as a stolen example of the enemy’s new weapons, to Alderman Kaiden Ekale as quickly as I can. However, should I not make it, or perhaps even if I do, I fear we will need the aid of your armies if we are to have any chance of preventing the taking of Salatia Taeo and the fall of Amigus.
Heroes of the Crystal Star (Valcoria Book 1) Page 22